


Apple of My Eye, Flower in My Lungs

by mag_and_mac



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Hanahaki Disease, I'm Sorry, Not very good tbh, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 16:43:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14719817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mag_and_mac/pseuds/mag_and_mac
Summary: Adrien looked around, and for a moment allowed himself to be surprised that the buildings surrounding him hadn’t collapsed during the earthquake that had destroyed his world.Hanahaki Disease is a rare, often fatal disease that affects the pulmonary regions. While few studies have been conducted, due to the lack of cases, the cause is well-known. HD is caused by unrequited love, which forces the patient into severe coughing fits. In these fits seeds, petals, flowers, or, in severe cases, entire bouquets are expelled. If you, or someone you know has...All the articles said the same thing.They all dared tell him that the one thing that kept him afloat, kept him soaring in the sky, was killing him.He refused it.She was all that he had left. She was the only thing he loved. The only thing giving him a reason to live, tofly.Until she became the weight tied around his ankle that forced him plummeting down to the ground at a speed faster than the one at which he had fallen for her.He was no longer one with the sky, but now he was one with the Earth, as he could prove with the flowers delicately curling around his heart and lungs, as though his chest was made of soil.





	Apple of My Eye, Flower in My Lungs

Adrien looked around, and for a moment allowed himself to be surprised that the buildings surrounding him hadn’t collapsed during the earthquake that had destroyed his world.

_He remembers when he used to soar high, and free among the birds._

_He remembers how his simple love for life would provide enough elation that he would believe himself to be capable of anything._

_When his mother left, he fell._

_Just a bit._

_He fell from the tips of golden-laced clouds to peak of the Eiffel Tower._

_Still souring, just lower._

_Then he met her._

_Ladybug. He could fly again, and he felt could kiss the sun's rays, and see from the tops of trees_

_Until_

_He realized, he didn’t love her._

_It was infatuation._

_He realized this only after meeting Marinette, in his suit._

_He loved this side of her he could never find as Adrien. She was funny, and flirty, and kind._

_So_ unbelievably _kind._

_She sent him souring up above the stratosphere, and he felt happier than he had since his mother had left._

_Until she became the weight tied around his ankle that forced him plummeting down to the ground at a speed faster than the one in which he had fallen for her._

_He was no longer one with the sky, but now he was one with the Earth, as he could prove with the flowers delicately curling around his heart and lungs, as though his chest was made of soil._

He blinked, and he could barely register if it was to temporarily shield his eyes from the harsh brightness of his phone in his dark room, or if to remove the stubborn wetness from his eyes.

_Hanahaki Disease is a rare, often fatal disease that affects the pulmonary regions. While few studies have been conducted, due to the lack of cases, the cause is well-known. Hanahaki Disease is caused by unrequited love, which forces the patient into severe coughing fits. It is in these fits that seeds, petals, flowers, or, in severe cases, entire bouquets are expelled. If you, or someone you know has..._

The article said what all the others did.

_The disease is extremely treatable, and is often removed through means of surgery. With removal of the flowers, however, all romantic feelings for the patient’s object of affection are also removed. This is the primary reason many patients hide the disease, and find themselves deceased._

He was selfish.

He didn’t want surgery, he _couldn’t_ have surgery. He didn’t want to say goodbye to the flutter his heart did when he saw her, the way he melted at her smile… _The way she took his breath away._

Not even when the marigolds began coming up coated in a thin sheen of blood did he want to lose that.

He kept on visiting her, even when one glance of her dazzling eyes would send an itch to rid his lungs of the dreaded blossoms.

The flowers, that tangible proof that she didn’t love him, pained him more than the burning in his throat ever could.

Nobody quite knew what was wrong with him, but slowly people were clued into the fact that there was something.

Ladybug noticed.

“Chat? Are you okay? I told you not to fight if you’re sick..”

Nino noticed.

“Bro, you good? Is your old man working you too hard?”

Hell, _his father_ noticed.

“Adrien, you shall no longer participate in basketball. I fear you are looking a bit stressed.”

And as much as he wanted to scream from the rooftops that _no, he wasn’t okay_ , he wanted Marinette more.

By the time she noticed something was off, he was barely weeks away from death. He could barely talk, and when he would, his voice would sound like he had been smoking since he was an infant. He hadn’t eaten in days, swallowing was too hard, and he could barely stand. Akuma battles were disastrous, and he would often have to excuse himself in the middle of them to go hack up the marigolds.

“Hey, Chaton!” She greeted, not looking up from her game, as he crawled in from her roof.

She was biting her lip in concentration, and sat leaning forward with competitiveness, and Chat Noir thought she looked stunning.

He fought the urge to vomit up the gorgeous bouquets that tickled his lungs.

As he battled with the flowers that burned his throat, sending tears to prick his eyes, he rasped out a simple, “Hey.”

At this she turned, and her eyes went wide.

“Are you okay?” She asked, standing to go to him, “You’re not hurt, are you?”

_Yes, I am. Yes, yes, yes. I’m hurting so much, and it’s because of you._

“I’m fine, Mari.” He gave a half-hearted chuckle, “How’s your game goi-” He stopped when she touched his shoulder. The touch was like fire, and his body shook as he fought down the marigolds.

She would not find out like this. She would _not._

“Oh god, are you sick?” She inquired, gently guiding him onto her chaise.

He didn’t speak, iron-covered petals fighting to leave their bitter flavor in his mouth.

“Chat Noir, please.” She begged. He hated that she was concerned for him, “What’s wrong.”

He shook his head, hand covering his mouth, and tears threatening his eyes.

She reached out to hug him, and the simple action sent more flowers up his throat, scratching and burning him, keeping him trapped in a level of hell made just for him by the sweetest girl he knew.

He knew he couldn’t keep so many flowers from escaping his grimace, so he tore out of her embrace and rushed to he bathroom.

The delicate petals that rested elegantly around the sink seemed so innocent, and did nothing to reflect his suffering.

Or Marinette’s as she stood in the doorway, shocked.

“C-Chat, I… Are you…? Who…?”

He looked up and gave a watery smile before whipping his head back to the sink, and expelling more petals. He felt a small hand on his back as he heaved, and he wanted to cry.

“I,” He coughed, “I guess t-the cat’s...the cat’s out of the bag, huh?”

“Chat…,” The heartbreak in her voice made him want to curl up and cry. She should not be hurting because of him.

“Y-You’re… you’re dying.”

He looked into her watery bluebell eyes.

“Who did this to you, kitty?”

He closed his own moist eyes before the fluttered back open. He gave a short, self-deprecating laugh that settled into a sad smile.

“Why, you, of course, p-princess.”

_If her parents noticed that her pot of marigolds was suddenly missing from her balcony, they did not say a thing._

_And two weeks later, if anyone noticed that when she walked into the graveyard and she did not carry flowers,_

_they did not_

_say_

_a thing._


End file.
